


slow on the uptake

by dalyeau



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, some bodyworship?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalyeau/pseuds/dalyeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It occurs to Akaashi, two months and three days into dating Fukurodani's volleyball captain and wing spiker, that Bokuto Koutarou is pretty good-looking, objectively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slow on the uptake

**Author's Note:**

> i've been yelling on twitter so much about bokuto's broad shoulders and no one answered my prayers so i had to write something of my own because i really? want his shoulders? apreciated as they should be? but it also turned into akaashi being like, um bokuto is a babe. which he is. so kudos to you, akaashi. 
> 
> i dont know how to write sex at all good lord pleas e

It occurs to Akaashi, two months and three days into dating Fukurodani's volleyball captain and wing spiker, that Bokuto Koutarou is pretty good-looking, objectively.

It's not that he hasn't noticed before, but Akaashi has to admit it hasn't been at the forefront of his mind either. Most of the time he's too busy making sure Bokuto actually comes out of his dejected modes and being the one that remembers air is a necessary element involved in keeping human beings alive, since Bokuto seems to forget that when he's kissing Akaashi against the lockers in the changing room with way too much enthusiasm and not enough care for Akaashi's lungs (and his own, probably.)

Bokuto is a bit of a human disaster, all long limbs that he can't keep still and loud  _Hey hey hey's_ that no one really wants to hear, kneepads that don't have any business being that long and a pouting habit he should have left behind when he stopped being five years old, but – alright, he's attractive. He has those nice muscles and broad shoulders and even though his hair is ridiculous, it sort of suits him. Akaashi watches him across the gym, pensive, spinning the volley ball in his hands, and Bokuto catches him looking and breaks into a gigantic grin that promises more damage to their lungs later. It makes something in Akaashi's stomach twist pleasantly and his hands feel warm around the rough material of the ball. It's nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I like your shoulders.”

He tells Bokuto that two days later, when they're in Bokuto's bedroom and really, it's too hot – even though they've both taken showers after practice, they're sweaty again already and Akaashi wants to peel off his own skin, but Bokuto keeps distracting him. He does this thing where he tackles Akaashi to the bed and settles between his legs, leans in and kisses him slow and nice, that makes Akaashi forget he's feeling suffocated by the weather and gross.

He has his hands on Bokuto's shoulders, squeezing them in pleasant surprise every time Bokuto runs his tongue over Akaashi's lower lip, and he allows himself to let them trail a bit further, feeling the hard surface of Bokuto's shoulder blades. They flex under his palms and his fingertips when Bokuto raises himself up a little to look at Akaashi with an awed expression that really shouldn't be as endearing as it is, and Akaashi thinks,  _Yes, I like this._

“Really?”

Akaashi doesn't answer, because he knows Bokuto's heard him just fine and Akaashi really isn't into wasting time with unnecessary things like repeating himself, so instead he pulls Bokuto down to meet his lips again and feels a little triumphant when Bokuto makes a small whimpering sound and melts into it. For all that he is all over the place and sometimes sloppy on the court, he's a good kisser, as far as Akaashi can guess – he's all lazy, warm lips, and the hot slide of his tongue against Akaashi's is pretty okay, too, gently pressing and caressing and only the right side of teasing. Akaashi likes these kisses best of all, the slow careful ones where it feels like they have all the time in the world even though Bokuto's parents get home at seven, because it's like Bokuto finally lets all the energy drain out of him and he pours it into being with Akaashi, drop by drop until he's quiet and sleepy and smiles contently against Akaashi's mouth.

He definitely likes Bokuto's shoulders. They're hard and solid under Akaashi's hands, and he's been watching them lately on the court – the way they tighten right before Bokuto is about to hit a toss, how Bokuto rolls them for a moment to get ready to serve. They're broad and make a nice line, and Akaashi likes resting his arms on them as Bokuto kisses him in the locker room, he likes grabbing onto them when Bokuto gets more intense and Akaashi feels like he'll end up on the floor if he doesn't hold onto something. They're firm and strong and Akaashi likes them.

He stops kissing Bokuto just for a moment, just enough to redirect his hands to the hem of his shirt and help Bokuto take it off when he takes the hint and raises his arms. Akaashi looks at his shoulders again now, a straight line with tight skin and some stray freckles from the past summer, and licks his lips.

Bokuto is definitely good-looking. Handsome, even. Attractive. Beautiful, if Akaashi had to pick a word, but he knows better than saying it out loud and causing Bokuto's head to shoot up straight into the stratosphere.

He lets his hands slide from Bokuto's shoulders to his elbows, slowly running them down Bokuto's arms, the skin of his palms hypersensitive and sending bolts of warmth and desire straight to every part of his body. Akaashi's toes curl into the mattress, the sheets that they have pushed to the end of the bed.

“Your arms too,” Akaashi concedes, and Bokuto is definitely smiling now, looking a bit breathless.

Now that he's fallen into this life-threatening realisation, Akaashi is not quite sure how he'll ever stop being acutely aware of it, every second of every day. He notices things he hadn't even thought of before; the sharpness of Bokuto's collarbone, the slow bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows, the soft underside of his jaw where Akaashi presses his thumb gently as they kiss again. It tickles, apparently, because Bokuto laughs into Akaashi's mouth and oh, alright, Akaashi likes that very much too. Bokuto laughs with his whole body, always, legs trembling and arms shaking and chest fluttering, and Akaashi can feel every vibration where they're touching, which is everywhere, like Bokuto's an earthquake Akaashi can't really escape.

His shirt is gone only a moment later, too. Bokuto's all about being equal and fair, pouncing on the chance of getting Akaashi as less clothed as possible within seconds whenever he can, and he presses kisses to Akaashi's chest and ribcage, brief and chaste and somewhat even childish. There's nothing childish about the way Akaashi feels about them though, as he trails his fingers all over Bokuto's back and lets himself be kissed, exposes his throat and Bokuto promptly begins to work his way up there with lips and tongue and teeth. There's always a moment, some exact second when Bokuto stops being the loud and wild owl-headed boy whose moods Akaashi has to juggle with and starts being the guy that makes Akaashi weak in the knees and a little light-headed, and to be honest he's a little scared that now those two modes are going to combine into a permanent one. He thinks about how good Bokuto looks on the court, when he's spiking Akaashi's tosses right there in the air and smiling wide and bright, the way he stretches his arms over his head or wipes the sweat from his face with his shirt, and the weather now definitely has nothing to do with how hot and suffocated Akaashi feels under Bokuto's heavy body, the press of his mouth on his skin.

“I like your legs,” he says against Bokuto's temple, and Bokuto's breathing gets a little harsher and shallower.

It's Bokuto's fault, really, because his legs are tangled with Akaashi's own right now and he presses them close together like he wants to melt into Akaashi and it feels nice, it feels great, it makes Akaashi think about how good they look during practice, when Bokuto jumps and his heels nearly touch the back of his thighs. They're toned and muscular and the fraction of skin showing between his kneepads and his shorts is a place Akaashi can't stop thinking about kissing, now that he realises it's the kind of hot that borders on obscene. He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply, and squeezes Bokuto's legs between his own right back, just as Bokuto chooses that moment to graze his teeth over Akaashi's bare shoulder.

Bokuto presses his thigh between Akaashi's legs, and Akaashi makes a little breathy sound that he's sure Bokuto is going to bring up later, with that smile and glint in his eyes that makes Akaashi want to throw a volley ball at his face. Not right now, because the way Bokuto is looking at him this moment is nothing short of gorgeous, with heavy-lidded eyes and teeth digging into his kiss-swollen lower lip, and Akaashi trembles with his whole body at being the centre of that stare, all that intense attention Bokuto has to offer. It's overwhelming, in a way, but not quite enough to distract Akaashi away from the heat of Bokuto's thigh pressing against his cock over and over, rubbing and working his erection with nothing but the slide of all that muscle and skin over the thin material of Akaashi's boxers, while Bokuto supports himself on one hand and the other grabs Akaashi's hip and encourages him to rock into it.

“C'mon,” he says, low and dry, “feels nice, right?” And Akaashi can't deny that – it doesn't feel just nice, it feels like his body wants to crawl out of his skin, every single nerve end feels so sensitive and aware of Bokuto, his weight and the way he smells of a fresh shower he took no long ago, his thumb pressing into Akaashi's hipbone.

He moves his hips like Bokuto wants him to, lifting them a bit to meet Bokuto's thigh, and Akaashi thinks he's actually going to die of want, of how much his hands ache to touch Bokuto everywhere, the places he knows so well already and the ones Akaashi hadn't really given much thought to before realising that yes, Bokuto is the kind of attractive that could probably kill if used correctly.

Akaashi comes with his hands gripping tightly Bokuto's waist and tugging him down, until he can bury his face into Bokuto's naked chest and gasp against it. There's a bit of shuffling, Bokuto making a soft moaning noise somewhere near Akaashi's ear and lips are brushing his earlobe as Bokuto rides Akaashi's thigh and Akaashi opens his legs a little to give him more space. He's wet and sticky but it doesn't feel as gross when he's running his fingers over Bokuto's back and shoulders and arms, telling him that he does, actually, like the shape of Bokuto's hips, the size of his hands, the soft curve of the small of his back.

Bokuto shudders his way into an orgasm while Akaashi grabs him by the back of his neck and presses their foreheads together, kissing the corner of Bokuto's mouth. The groan that forms low in Bokuto's throat and ends up as a satisfied, shaky gasp against Akaashi's lips is another thing Akaashi likes, but that's one of the old ones, the ones he liked from the start, along with Bokuto's pleased smile and his content, sleepy sigh.

 


End file.
